


Normality

by hikarufly



Series: After Twelve Stories [9]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:16:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6075507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikarufly/pseuds/hikarufly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Clara, on a normal day, doing normal things... and of course, they were extraordinary.<br/>SPOILERS for 9x12</p>
            </blockquote>





	Normality

Clara found the Doctor on his armchair. He was laying on it, rather than sitting, with his black trousers, striped socks instead of his everyday boots. His white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, was hidden under a jumper of a nice, calming shade of green and glasses were on the tip of his nose. He was immersed in the book he was holding with one hand, his head sustained by his arm, his fingers on his temple and cheek, his forehead frowned in concentration, not concern.

She got closer, but he didn't take his eyes off the page, even if he had definitely noticed her. He was frowning a little bit less, and he had a mixture of relaxation and tension on him. Clara caressed his shoulder, sat on the arm of the armchair and let her hand slip to his nape and then loosing themselves in his hair. He sighed and smiled, putting his index finger inside to remember where he was and closing the book.

«Good book?» she asked.

«Interesting.» he replied, turning his head to her, taking his glasses off with his other hand. She took the book and, after putting a bookmark in it, stored it safely on the bookshelf behind him.

«It's nearly dinner time, what would you like to eat?» she said then, and he thought a moment about it.

«Something warm. Soup?» he proposed.

«Sounds nice. Will you help me?» she asked again.

The Doctor seemed to have a question on his lips, but didn't want to express it. He put his glasses on the little table beside his armchair.

«Sure.» said he, instead.

He almost stood up, but she stopped him. Clara slipped down the arm of the armchair and sat on his lap. Confused or best awkward at first, and seeing the same embarrassment in her eyes for a moment, he focused only on her, and embraced her. His forehead caressed hers, their eyes were closed.

They were not in the TARDIS. That armchair was not in the mezzanine of the control room. They were in a living room, in a small cottage in the Scottish countryside. Dusk was approaching, as the sun was going down. The light was orange and red, and bathed them as golden water would.

«I can hear your thoughts, Doctor. Please, stop.» she whispered, opening her eyes. He did the same.

«I'd rather fight my way out of this, rather than pretend...» he started to say, but she silenced him with her own fingers, caressing his lips.

«We agreed to this. Before we press that button, before we figure out who's going to forget who... let us not run away. Let us stay, at least for 24 hours... let us have a normal day. As if we were just two boring human beings who met and spent time together and fell in love.» she explained, remembering their deal.

«But this normal day is finishing. And I know I have to do this, we have to...» he started again.

«Actually, I told Ashildr to give us the night, too. She's coming tomorrow morning.» she said, smiling a bit rascally. He smiled too.

«Human beings are not boring, Clara. Not all of them. Do you think I would have been a boring one?»

«Maybe. Sitting here, reading, while we could have adventures of our own.» she supposed.

«I am sure you would not let me be boring.» he replied.

«Of course I wouldn't.»

She had started caressing his hair again, letting her fingers loose themselves in his curls. He, on the other hand, was caressing her back, as his hand had slipped under her sweater and had found her skin. His other hand was on her thigh, but its grip was looser.

Silence engulfed them as he relaxed and she almost started to purr as a kitten in that embrace. A normal life... how nice that would have been and yet adventure had got them together, fate, the universe... and Missy, of course. He had dreamed of that normal life on the days Martha Jones was in the TARDIS and the spaceship still had his “coral” theme. He was human then, had forgotten himself, and things were so different. The feeling, though, was all the same reassuring, galvanising, empowering.

She started to kiss him, as she had done only briefly, too briefly, in the cloisters, as they did not really had the privacy to do it. First, lips met lips, caressing and then tasting each other. Breath mixed with breath and lips touched tentatively. She got closer, she found his back as he had found hers and moment by moment she felt hungrier for that kiss. Soon, their lips were slightly bit by their teeth, their tongues danced together, almost devouring each other.

They parted as she had to catch her breath, feeling flushed and hot but only imagining her heart speeding up. Her soul was not bound to the chemicals of her body, frozen in time. What they were having was more intimate than flesh and blood.

She stood up and dragged him with her. Their fingers intertwined.

«Dinner can wait. I don't actually need to eat.» she reminded him.

«I thought this all exercise was about normal things...» he said. She shook her head.

«You'll never change, thank God.» she whispered. «Believe me, even if I had to eat, it wouldn't be the priority now.»

He followed her upstairs to the bedroom. She got rid of her slippers and socks, and he did it too. They had had a discussion earlier about socks in a particular situation, in that normal day, in front of a cup of tea each. He had blushed, tried to take the conversation on a more scientific, distant level as she was biting her lip and forcing him to let her know how bad he desired her. Then, the moment had passed, he seemed too scared or maybe he just needed more urgency, or to make it as memorable as possible.

She started to kiss him again, and he made it even more passionate than before. Defences were finally down. Their lips parted only when she took his jumper and shirt off, without even unbuttoning it, and when he took her sweater away. Her stomach was now against his, his colder skin making her shiver a bit. He was leaning to her, so that her breasts were against his hearts, beating faster and faster. She opened his belt and took his trousers down, and he got rid of them in a couple of movements. He was the one, then, to get her to the bed and made her lay on it, stepping on top of her. She took her own jeans off, and her bra, determinate to not let her hands off him too long. He leaned again on her, to kiss her lips and then her neck, famished. She bit his ear, and grabbed his hips firmly, slipping her hands underneath his boxers, feeling his flesh under her fingertips.

As his remaining underwear was on the floor, her knickers were there too in a matter of seconds.

In a gentlemanly way, he let her slip under the blanket as he did the same, as to protect them from the outside world. He looked at her as you look at a piece of art, with love, reverence and excitement. He caressed her neck, the curve of her breasts as her nipples hardened, her stomach and belly down to her navel and then her hips, thigh... she sighed, and reversed their position. Chest against chest, she reclaimed other kisses from his lips, her ownership of his body and hips, feeling the rush of blood in his system, his excitement growing against her wetness. He made her slip under him again, and if she had felt less emotion she would have argued on the “boring” everyday missionary position, but words died in a deep, sighed moan he extorted her as he had felt her with his fingertips and helped himself in her. Her hands now grabbed firmly his bottom and hips, and she engaged his gaze with her eyes. He was silently asking if she was okay, if he had to stop or if he could go on. He received an answer in her movements, anticipating his, slowly at first. He sighed first and growled afterwards, as he started to move inside her too.

That was not human normality, not even normal mating activity, he thought. That was human love and there was everything amazing and splendid and extraordinary about it.

They found a pace together, kissing and whispering in each other's ears, touching and tasting with lips and hands as they finally came together. He had to catch his breath too, this time, and she reclaimed her turn to be on top not long after that round. He could see her almost entirely, as she rode him then, as she could impress in her mind every inch of his skin, face, hair, desperate to remember it all, despite what they had to face the morning after.

The Doctor and Clara stayed long in that bed, intertwined and interlocked, in that hug he always said he didn't like.

She asked him to read something for her, when night was less young. Covered with little more than a blanket, hips downwards, his hair messy on the pillow and his glasses back on the tip of his nose, he read her poetry, while her head was on his chest, feeling his voice resonate in him, or simply looking at him as he did before. A masterpiece of a creature, alien, naked and splendid.

The morning after, he found her sleeping prone and serene, one of her hands on his chest. He tried not to wake her up as he stood up. He put on only his socks, boxers and went downstairs. He found his black jumper, full of little holes, and put it on as he made coffee and sipped it mindfully, his hair still wild as his eyebrows were fierce. She came downstairs with his green jumper, her knickers and socks on. She was surely about to cry, as she was biting her fingernails and her eyes were wet and “inflating”. He reached her and let her embrace him so tightly as allowing her to disappear in him.

Both of them thought they could never forget each other.

I believe, in the end, that they really didn't.

 


End file.
